Reunion
by EpicGlitter
Summary: One shot (pun intended): A shy hipster walks into a bar, beyond space and time... (stop me if you've heard this one before?)


**Song: Zane Campbell - Post-Mortem Bar**

* * *

"Yer tellin' me ya never seen a cat in a bar before?" a gruff voice called out from behind the bar.

The boistrous chorus of good-natured guffaws caught Max by surprise, though she felt unusually calm.

"This… this isn't just any cat," she said, scooping the purring feline into her arms as tears formed in her eyes, "This is _Bongo_!"

"Max, I hate to break it to you, but this isn't just any bar," a man with short, strawberry blonde hair said, peeling his eyes away from the TV and getting up from his stool to walk towards her.

"William…? Wowsers! How? I- am I dreaming?," she said, stroking Bongo's furry belly as she stared in disbelief at her best friend's long-deceased father, looking as healthy as the morning before that fatal accident.

"I'm afraid not, kiddo," he said, hugging her carefully to avoid upsetting the cat, then placing a hand on her shoulder, "Oh, Joyce would _kill _me for that," he chuckled to himself, "Young woman, not kiddo. Sorry 'bout that."

"I… I don't understand…?"

"Don't worry, Max. No one does, at first," he replied, removing his hand with a sympathetic grin, "Hey, when you're ready, drink's on me."

"But I'm not old en-"

"Take all the time you need," he quickly interjected, shaking his head as he returned to his barstool. "Bloody Bill's not goin' anywhere!"

By now, Max's eyes were adjusting to the dimly lit space. She'd never actually been inside a bar, but from TV, movies, and games, it fit the part well enough: beer taps behind a long bar of some dark, treated wood; bottles of booze lined up on the shelves; stools; booths; pool tables; a dart board. The place felt homey, welcoming even. Not too loud, and not too crowded: perfect for the freckled brunette.

Then again, her anxiety seemed like a distant memory- and not only because she was cradling her favorite kitty. Sadness, loneliness, guilt, regret, aching neck and sore feet – nearly all of it had disappeared the moment she arrived.

"So _you're_ the Max she was always talking about," said an unfamiliar young woman with long blonde hair and ripped jeans, greeting her with a hug.

For the first time in, well, _ever_, Max felt perfectly comfortable with a stranger.

"Rachel? I… I'm so sorry-"

"Shh, no, that's all behind us," she responded, letting Max go, "Just glad to finally meet you!"

"If you're here, then where's…?"

"BOO-YAH!," Chloe said, stepping out from behind a wooden support column. "Get it? _Boo_-yah, like a scary punk ghost?"

"Is… is that what you are?," Max asked, lacking any sign of fright or, for that matter, amusement. After gently placing Bongo down, and receiving an appreciative meow in response, Max pulled Chloe in for a tight embrace, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"I… I thought I'd never see you… I should've called… I c-couldn't-" she suddenly stopped speaking, becoming choked up to the point no words could form for several long moments. Though she seemed to have left so many of her emotions at the door, her love for Chloe – and the ache she'd carried for the past five months – was a tidal wave washing over her.

"I'm right here, Maximus," the blue-haired punk responded, guiding Max over to a booth with one tattooed arm wrapped round her shoulders, William and Rachel following several paces behind.

"You d-didn't answer the question..."

Max slid into the seat against the corner, finding a plate of lobster rolls and some fruity frozen drink waiting for her. Shooting Chloe a quizzical look, she was surprised to find the bluenette shaking her head with a genuine "wasn't me!" shrug, a bowl of coffee ice cream and mug of Irish coffee laid in front of her – the latter smelling strongly of whiskey.

"Like I said, Max, this isn't just any bar," William said, sliding into a seat next to Rachel and opposite Chloe. A plate of salmon surprise, a cold beer, and – slightly off to the side – a slice of chocolate cake were all neatly set before him. Bongo, who had jumped onto his lap, sniffed curiously at the cake.

Of course, Max had always had a deductive mind, so the fact that she was now walking with the dead did not come as a galloping shock. She saw the familiar faces around her. She remembered her fall.

It was simple, really.

Much simpler than chaos theory, anyway.

Looking down at the otherwise tempting lobster rolls, Max couldn't help but think she did not deserve them. Everyone else at this table had died a tragic death, and two in particular, she could have prevented.

Did they know?

"Hey," Chloe said, placing a hand gently in her own and interlacing their fingers, "We've got you, Max. And all the messed up shit? - uh, sorry, Dad! - rich boys with guns and violent creeps with goatees and months of soul-crushing grief? That's all in the rearview. It's over."

Despite her brooding throughts, hearing her best friend's voice again and seeing the distinctive blue polish on her fingernails brought a wistful smile to Max's face.

She gently squeezed the bluenette's hand.

"Happy Birthday, Chloe," Max said quietly, her eyes growing misty again.

Chloe leaned over, first kissing Max on her forehead, then softly meeting her lips. The almost overwhelming depth of their love, the pent-up longing from their time apart, the immense sorrow and relief, all flowed through Max at once.

When they pulled away, Chloe immediately wrapped Max in a warm embrace as she wept.

"It's always hardest when you first get here," Rachel said, her voice low and soothing, "But you're doing fine, Max. Only gets better from here."

"Mrow," Bongo mewed in agreement, moving onto Rachel's lap and curling up there.

"So… do we all just, I don't know, _stay here__?_" Max said, sniffling and nuzzling her head against the crook of Chloe's arm.

"Yes, for now," William said, "After that- and I don't mean to pour on the bad news here, I know this sort of thing has caused a lot of problems for us- after that, you'll have a big decision to make about where you go next. But they'll tell you all about it, when it's time."

"What do we do 'til then?" Max asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chloe pulled Max closer for a moment, then gestured to the untouched food on the table. "Well, _I'm_ hungry like the wolf. So first- we eat! Then you, me, Dad, and Rachel-" a meow arose from the other side of the booth, "-and Bongo, have hella catching up to do!"

As the humans all nodded in agreement, grabbing their silverware, Chloe added, "You first, Maxaroni. Start from the beginning. Tell us everything!"


End file.
